


Green and Blue, Cotton and Lace

by Raelynn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Molly has an extensive collection of knickers, Molly is also unbelievably patient with Sherlock, Sherlock is too nosy for his own good, WankLock, as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9290006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: Once again, Sherlock is too nosy for his own good.  Or maybe it was for his own good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From a headcanon/prompt from RottenBrainStuff on tumblr:  
> headcanon: Sherlock rummages through Molly's underwear drawer when she's not home. Molly is absolutely aware that he is sneaking through and having a wank, but says nothing and decides to see how long he will keep it up without telling her. One day she finally decides to do something and leaves a little note in her drawer that says "just ask me if you want me to model anything for you sometime". When she gets home from work she finds Sherlock sitting at the edge of her bed, still buffering. :)

Sherlock had been respecting her personal space for some time now, so Molly didn’t immediately realize what was going on. She had spent weeks on rotation with the other members of their motley “family” supervising Sherlock’s detox from the mix of cocaine and heroin he’d been flooding his body with, so she’d been at Baker Street far more often than he’d been at her place. 

Actually, upon reflection, she was under the impression he hadn’t set foot in her place since Mary had died and all this started.

So when she had to dig a little deeper in her knickers drawer to find the green lacy ones she was looking for (even though they were liked enough to be in constant rotation, and rarely made it to the bottom of the pile), she didn’t really take notice of it, grabbing them and heading off into the bathroom to get ready for her shift at Barts.

She also didn’t notice the next two times things were slightly off-kilter in her knickers drawer.

But the fourth time, she noticed, because the pair she was looking for (blue, cotton, with a yellow flower pattern on them) wasn’t there. 

Molly Hooper lived alone, and did her own laundry. After a cursory glance under the bed, she realized that someone had taken them. And there was only one person that could be.

She bided her time, however, and a week later, they showed up, bunched up in the back of the drawer as if someone wanted her to believe that she’d just missed them back there.

So she scribbled a note, dropped it into the drawer, and waited.

oOo

Once Sherlock had gotten all of the drugs out of his system, and gotten through the worst of the withdrawal symptoms, he’d tried very hard to get his life back in order. He’d allowed Mrs. Hudson to help him clean up the flat. He’d had Billy take all of the apparatus and paraphernalia and dispose of it. He’d spent time with John and Rosie, took a few (simpler) cases, and mostly just tried to get himself back on an even keel.

Which also involved spending days at Molly Hooper’s flat.

Molly’s had become a place to go and think, away from Baker Street and any distractions there. Most of the time in the past it had been when Molly wasn’t home, but since everything, he’d not been there when she was there once.

Once she’d stopped having to babysit him, he’d avoided her, even if he wouldn’t admit to himself that’s what he was doing.

But old habits, as they say, die hard, and one afternoon he found himself squirreled away in Molly Hooper’s bedroom, lying atop the duvet, deep in his Mind Palace.

If the scent of Molly that permeated her entire bedroom helped him think, well, what of it? He certainly wasn’t going to devote any brain cells to why.

oOo

The first time he got into Molly Hooper’s knickers drawer, he had been looking for a scrap of paper to make some notes on. When he flung the drawer open and saw what it contained, his first reaction had been to shove it closed again. But something caught his eye, and he opened it further, deducing. 

The lacy green knickers caught his attention because they seemed out of place. Almost every other pair in the drawer were cute, but more utilitarian. Cotton. Patterned. He picked them up, inspecting them.

“She wears these often. Almost every week.” A quick glance into the other drawers revealed that it wasn’t half of a bra and knicker set. He looked through the rest of her knickers, trying to see if there were more fancy pair like the green ones. Two. Out of at least twenty pairs of knickers.

He ran the green ones through his hands, feeling the warmth coiling in his belly, and recognizing it for what it was. 

Desire.

Sherlock hadn’t felt desire in a very long time. Not since the last time he’d seen Irene Adler, after a night (and a morning) of very satisfying sex, had Sherlock felt desire like this. He frowned.

Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts that were threatening to creep in, he put the knickers back in the drawer. He didn’t notice that in his discomfort and confusion, he hadn’t bothered to put them back where they belonged.

Twice more he found himself secluded at Molly’s flat, his one safe haven away from the rest of his life. No expectations here, no Mrs. Hudson barging in, no clients coming to call. 

He didn’t want to think about why he found himself back in Dr. Hooper’s knickers drawer, deducing what pair she’d worn that day from what he could see in the clothes basket and what was in the drawer.

Thoughts of Molly Hooper’s knickers drawer started coming to him unbidden. While doing experiments at the kitchen table. While reading, curled up in his chair near the fireplace. While eating takeaway with John, with baby Rosie in one hand as he fed himself with the other.  
The breaking point was the morning he woke keyed up and...sticky. Sighing, he made his way into the bath, shucking his clothes as he went and reminding himself to burn them rather than let Mrs. Hudson find them.

Later that morning, he once again found himself at Molly Hooper’s flat, rifling around in her knickers drawer. A pair of blue cotton knickers with little yellow flowers caught his attention. These. These were the sort of knickers he pictured his pathologist in.

Well, not literally pictured her in them. He would never think about Molly Hooper in her knickers. In just her knickers. In this very room, wearing nothing but a pair of robin’s egg blue knickers with little yellow flowers on them.

Mind Palace Molly stood in the bedroom, staring at him as he walked over to her bed and sat down, still holding onto the knickers.

“Sherlock,” said the Molly he kept in his Mind Palace. He looked up and saw her, and did a double take. Usually, his Molly was wearing her lab coat, sensible trousers, maybe a garish cardigan.

Today, Mind Palace Molly was wearing a Molly-sized version of his favorite dressing gown, tied tight around her slim waist.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the lab, that’s where you are.”

Mind Palace Molly stepped toward him. “Don’t ask me, this is all happening in your head.” She stood before Sherlock, practically touching his knees as he sat on the bed. She looked down at herself, frowning. “I don’t think they even sell these dressing gowns in my size.”

With that, she loosened the belt and it fell to the ground, revealing a very fit Molly wearing nothing but the knickers he’d had in his hand a moment ago. He looked down at his empty hands.

“Well,” said Molly, nudging his knees apart and standing between them. “What a fine situation we’ve found ourselves in.”

Sherlock shook his head, dispelling Mind Palace Molly. He looked down again, comforted to see the knickers back in his hands where they belonged. He also became aware of how uncomfortably tight his already-too-tight trousers had become.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, and looked down at the knickers again. Reaching down with the other hand, he unbuttoned his trousers and slid down the zip, releasing his straining cock. Molly wouldn’t be home for at least an hour, and there was no way he could go back to Baker Street in this condition. He would have to take care of it.

Sherlock wrapped the knickers around himself, enjoying the friction that the cotton sliding against his skin created. He closed his eyes, and Mind Palace Molly was there again, dropping to her knees, her small, warm hands closing around his cock. Sherlock moaned and fell back against the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

His hands ghosted along his shaft, pulling and twisting in just the ways he liked. Mind Palace Molly swapped out her hands for her mouth (or did Sherlock add a significant amount of saliva to his activities? He found that reality and his Mind Palace were converging and somewhere in the back of his mind he told himself to quit worrying about if it were real or not.

As Sherlock’s breaths came quicker and more shallow his pace picked up, watching Molly’s cheeks hollowed around his cock in his mind. He could feel himself holding back, trying not to press into her mouth, letting her set the pace, but it was difficult, so difficult. He needed more, more, more friction, more depth, more Molly….

With a grunt, he spilled out over his hand and abdomen (when had he had the foresight to ruck up his shirt?) and … oh dear. Molly’s knickers.

Sighing, he cleaned himself up with them, knowing already it was a lost cause. Shoving them into his coat pocket on the way out the door, he knew he’d come up with a solution. Eventually.

And he did, washing them by hand in the kitchen sink of Baker Street, and a week later, silently shoving them into the back of her drawer, in the hopes that she wouldn’t have noticed their absence.

Satisfied, he promised himself he would stay out of Molly Hooper’s knickers drawer in the future.

oOo

That lasted almost two whole weeks, before he found himself back at her flat, trying to piece together a particularly difficult case. He knew he was missing something, just not what.

Eventually he found himself wandering over and slipping open the drawer. Just to look, he promised himself. He would not touch.

He knew he’d been caught the moment he saw the folded sheet of paper on top of the blue knickers. He reached into the drawer and picked it up, unfolding it slowly, wondering what Molly would have to say about his activities.

Sherlock,

You know, if you wanted to get into my knickers, all you had to do was ask. I’d be happy to model any of them for you.

\--Molly

oOo

When Molly got home from work that evening, she found a very dazed Sherlock Holmes sitting on her bed, clutching the note she’d left him, with his “buffering” face in full effect.

She watched him for a moment, then quietly made her way into the room, slipping the paper out from between his fingers and sitting down next to him.

“Want to talk about it?” she said.

Sherlock nodded, still staring blankly.

“Now?”

Sherlock stole a glance at Molly and reached over, taking her hand in his. He was quiet for a bit longer, but Molly left him to it. They’d have this discussion when he was ready, and she knew there was no reason to rush him.


End file.
